


you know what's sexy? self care

by notjodieyet



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Other, apologies for that, per usual, poly doctor, the doctor is horny, the doctor needs to sleep, wrote this for a friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet
Summary: The Doctor hasn't slept in ages; his partners have had enough.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	you know what's sexy? self care

“I’m worried about the Doctor,” said Rose.

“Me too,” said the Master, leaning against the refrigerator and sipping a glass of, hopefully, wine. “Why are we worried? I’m always just generally worried about him, to be honest.”

“I’m pretty sure he hasn’t slept in a week.”

The Master shrugged. “A week? He’s gone longer than a week.”

The Doctor shouted from the living room, “Actually, I haven’t slept in a month in a half, Rose, and there’s no need to worry about me. I’m perfectly fine.”

Rose rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “I think he’s running on caffeine.”

“That might explain why he just begged me to tie him to a chair.”

“Begged you to _what_?”

The Master tipped the rest of the red liquid in his glass into his mouth, a disturbingly vampiric visual, and said, “Just chalked it up to normal Doctor behavior, though. He usually runs on lust and coffee, anyway.”

“That isn’t healthy.”

“He’s not human.”

“Still isn’t healthy. This is our boyfriend, Master. We have to take care of him _somehow_.” Rose snatched the empty wine glass from the Master’s hand and set it in the sink. “It’s too early to be drinking.”

“The alcohol doesn’t affect me. It’s for the aesthetic,” sniffed the Master. “My metabolism is too fast for it to do anything. Because I’m _not a human_.”

“You don’t want the Doctor to get a normal amount of rest.”

“I do! Of course I do, Rose, I care about him just as much as you do. Happy?”

Rose studied him, carefully. “Maybe. I have an idea, and I need you to help me with it.”

* * *

_Foreign airborne diseases from volcanoes are, in fact, called xenovolcaniaerotoxin, contrary to the studies done by…_

“Heyyy,” said a voice from behind the Doctor, and he swallowed and looked behind him, flushing. “Bet you’ve read that same sentence three times.”

“First of all, I definitely haven’t, and —”

“Put the book down,” said the Master.

The Doctor did, almost too eagerly, and turned around. The Master leaned forward and kissed him, intensely, his mouth open, tasting of… red wine? “My Doctor,” he murmured. “My Doctor…”

“You — you —”

“Come to bed with me.”

“You —”

The Master pulled him up, threading his fingers through the Doctor’s gelled hair. “My beautiful Doctor.”

“I love you.”

He froze, his eyelashes fluttering closed, and he said, “You love me?”

“Uh-huh.”

The Master shook his head, as if driving off some distracting thought, and said, “Bed, Doctor.”

“You want me in bed?”

“Oh, yes.”

The Doctor’s breath caught as the Master pushed him backwards, through the door of his bedroom, peppering tiny kisses down his throat. With the Master he’s never sure if his lips will part for a kiss or a bite, whether he’ll be understanding and sweet or whether he’ll be his old murderous self again.

The Doctor had said _I love you_. He hadn’t noticed the words as he said them. Not that he didn’t _mean_ them, but this hadn’t been his preferred context. The Doctor had planned on whispering them at night, words that had always been difficult for him, words that felt like ripping both his hearts out of his chest one by one and placing them in the Master’s hands, trusting him to keep them safe and unbroken.

He didn’t say them again. He kissed the Master back, let the Master press him into the soft mattress of his bed, let him unbutton his suit and his shirt and slip off his tie and say, seductively, “ _Go to sleep_.”

“What?”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Doctor, you need it.” The Master slid off him effortlessly, bounced through the door, and closed it.

The lock clicked.

“Fuck you!” the Doctor yelled through the door.

“Not unless you sleep!”

“Gah!”

The other side of the door went quiet, and the Doctor presumed the Master had left.

But a few minutes afterwards, he said, “Fine. After you sleep.”

“What?”

“We’ll continue after you sleep, Doctor.”

The Doctor grinned. “Really?”

There was no response; he’d probably _actually_ left this time. The Doctor toed his socks off and wiggled under the blankets, entertaining himself with thoughts of what the Master would do to him when he woke up.

It wasn’t long before he passed out, tumbling into dreams of volcanoes and kisses and glass hearts.


End file.
